


Jon is Back

by UnderCoverMarsupial



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dragons are amazing, F/M, Minor Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:00:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnderCoverMarsupial/pseuds/UnderCoverMarsupial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa meets Jon's dragon. I wrote this for some friends on Tumblr. I'm not a Jon x Sansa shipper but I believe in letting people ship. So I wrote this as a voice of support.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jon is Back

“Well I won’t follow a woman, and that’s that,” Lord Cerwyn said.

“Why you cowardly little-” Lady Mormont began, but Sansa silenced her with a wave.

“Lord Cerwyn is within his rights,” Sansa said. She stood up from the seat of her fathers. She was the Lady of Winterfell, and Warden of the North while her brother was away. _My cousin_ she amended, feeling again the wave of glee mounting in her chest. She stilled her face and raised her chin. Winter was here.

“Lord Cerwyn may certainly remain, if he so chooses. We need more people to tend the glass gardens and the infirmary.” There was a dead silence in the hall. Lyanna Mormont was trying and failing to keep the grin off her face.

“I won’t stay with the boys and old men!” Lord Cerwyn said, his face flushed with anger.

“Don’t be absurd, my Lord, you are staying with the old women and the children. The boys and old men are all marching north, under _my_ banner.” She shifted her shoulders, subtly accenting the armor she wore under her cloak. With that she turned and swept from the hall, her head high. Lyanna Mormont sneered at Lord Cerwyn before following in her liege lady’s wake.

 

“That was well done Little Bird…” a voice rumbled as Sansa swept into the courtyard. A huge shadow detached itself from the wall and fell in on her other side.

“Lord Clegane,” Sansa began, gritting her teeth. “I told you if you call me that again in public I will have your head.”

“This isn’t public little- my lady. And old habits die hard, my lady,” Clegane grumbled. But he sounded amused. “Still, it was well done.”

“And what are you even _doing here_ Sandor?” She said under her breath.

“They’ve kicked me out, the midwife said the babe was coming, and they didn’t want me in the way.”

“I shall pray for your wife then.”

“Thank-”

He was cut off by a sudden commotion outside the gates. There was a thunderous roar, the screaming of horses and men, crashes, voices shouting- complete pandemonium. People began fleeing into the yard through the main gates, most screaming in terror. A riderless horse galloped by, its eyes rolling white with fear.

Sansa found herself pinned to the stable wall, Clegane’s back blocking her view on one side. He had his sword out and was on his toes, his head on a pivot. Beside him little Lady Mormont guarded Sansa’s other side. Sansa was just thinking how absurd the twelve-year-old looked when the girl pulled an axe from her belt, chased in silver and fit to her hand, a bear on each blade.  Well. Not absurd at all really.

“My lady!” Came a shout from across the yard. A fat man of the Nights Watch, wearing the beginnings of a Maester’s chain, was puffing towards them. Clegane put his body firmly in the way of the newcomer. Sansa shoved his back as hard as she could.

“Stop it. Stop. It! Sandor Clegane you move _this instant_!” She hissed, summoning all her authority into her tone. He moved. A little. _This is the trouble with retainers who still remember when you were thirteen,_ Sansa said to herself. “Sam! Here! I’m here behind this _lummox_!” She shoved again to no avail.

Sam’s face lit with joy and he ran to them, dropping on one knee right there in the snow.

“Lady Sansa! Its Jon! Jon is here!”

“Jon? Jon is here?” Sansa tried and failed to suppress the spike of joy, nerves and a thousand other feelings that seemed to fill her again, just at the sound of her cousin’s name.

“Yes, my lady, come, oh come! Come and see! Come and see what he has brought!” Sam was nearly jumping up and down, his face shining with joy.

The four of them made their way across the courtyard to the gate. The commotion seemed to be dying down as they walked down the great tunnel leading through the outer walls. But once the gate was cleared all but Sam stopped in their tracks. He took another few steps before he noticed he had left them.

“Come on! Its alright! Its alright! Its Jon!” He shouted, bouncing on his toes. No one was listening to him. The three were frozen in place, their eyes wide. Sandor Clegane was white as a sheet, his broad shoulders trembling. Lyanna Mormont’s expression bordered on ecstasy, tears streaming freely down her face.

“Is it real?” she whispered. “Is it really real?” her young voice broke into a sob and she covered her mouth with both hands, her axe forgotten, dropped in the snow.

Sansa saw and heard none of this. Her eyes were fixed on Jon, the lone point of reality in this dream. Her cousin, his dark hair sprinkled with snow, was gazing at her, drinking in the sight of her like a man too long in the desert. Sansa took a deep shuddering breath. _I am the Stark of Winterfell. Daughter of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully. He is the King in the North and the dearest love of my heart. He would never hurt me._

She drew in another breath and cleared her throat.

“Lord Clegane. Go to your wife. Now.” Never taking his eyes off the scene in front of him Sandor nodded once and backed slowly into the tunnel again, his breathing harsh and shallow.

Sansa took a step and then another, keeping her eyes firmly on Jon.

 

It was a Dragon. A real dragon outside her gates. Huge, its head large enough to swallow a sheep whole, it was sitting up, its tail wrapped around its feet. _Like a cat._ Sansa thought hysterically. _Maybe it purrs? Seven save me!_

It was white, or bronze, or gold, or pink, the colors shifted even as she looked at it. Iridescent scales covered it. It was beautiful. Distantly Sansa was aware of Lyanna Mormont weeping openly beside her.

A dragon. A real dragon. She could feel the warmth of it as she got closer, saw the snow melting around its feet. Now closer she saw that’s its wings were chased with gold and bronze, that its horns were delicate gold spirals and its eyes… They were a dark rich bronze, flecked with red and gold and deep brown. She felt her heart stutter in her chest. A dragon… _A dragon_ …

Jon was a splash of black at the dragon’s shoulder.

“My Lady,” Jon began with a small bow. She arched her brow at him incredulously. “Sansa,” he amended with that small smile that made her heart clench. “this is Vyserion. My… well, my dragon.”

Sansa didn’t know what to say. The huge head snaked down around them and suddenly she was being regarded by a large unblinking eye. Its breath smelled like cloves, like dark spices in wine. The head turned and Sansa found herself being snuffled by a huge nose, butted in the stomach and chest.

“Oh!” was all she could manage and reached out and gripped the huge muzzle in both arms, mostly to keep from falling. It was warm, hot even, the huge breath blowing her skirts back with every exhale.

“It’s so soft,” she said wonderingly. Each plate was made up of thousands of tiny scales, no larger than the first joint of her thumb. Most were white but there was bronze and gold and other colors too. They felt like silk, she couldn’t stop caressing them.

“He likes you,” Jon said happily. The dragon turned its head to Lyanna who immediately threw her arms around it, rubbing her face against the great nose.

Sansa turned back to Jon- marveled at him.

“So its true. You are a Targaryen,” she whispered. She was in awe, true, but her heart was soaring in her chest. He understood immediately and stepped forward, drawing her into the circle of his arms.

“Yes, its true, its all true.”

“So you and I…”

“We can wed.” His voice trembled at the last and she was surprised to see tears on his face. He grimaced and wiped them away, clearing his throat. Awkwardly, he patted at her armored shoulders, straightening her cloak with its fur shawl until he had himself together. Sansa turned and let her gaze slide up, up, up the dragon’s side to its back. There was a saddle of sorts there. With clips and clasps. Jon was wearing a strange thick belt with metal rings at his sides. A harness.

“You are a dragon rider. A Targaryen prince, with a real dragon,” she whispered wonderingly. Jon cleared his throat and stroked the dragon’s soft hide.

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he said awkwardly, clearly embarrassed. “But I don’t feel different. I’m still just plain Jon Snow under it all, waiting for someone to wake me up.” Sansa shook he head.

“I had a dream once, that I would marry a prince, and live happily ever after,” she said musingly. Jon startled her with a laugh.

“And I dreamed that you would notice me, even for a moment. Didn’t realize I needed a dragon though!” Sansa batted at him, giving him a little shove for good measure.

“Jon Snow, I would love you if you were just a disgraced Night’s Watchman and I had to follow around like Gilly follows Sam.” She was teasing but she meant it too and he knew that. His face was wreathed in a wide grin now, ready to tease her back.

“But the dragon is alright though,” he said, leaning against the beast’s hide with his arms crossed. She raised her chin.

“The dragon is… not bad,” she conceded in her most Lady Stark of Winterfell voice. Above them the dragon trumpeted a greeting, startling everyone.

“The Queen is coming,” Jon said, his eyes sweeping the sky.

“Good. She can come to our wedding,” Sansa said and leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek. She stroked the Dragon again wonderingly and when it lowered its head to her placed a kiss on its soft cheek as well.

“I will go and prepare.”


End file.
